Intoxicated by your fragrance
Entranced by your radiance
Unique; you are blind to your own brilliance
Lovely, humble, shy
Skin that makes me cry
You are the one I still adore
Remember when you've cast me aside?
Did you know in your oblivion
You've left me poisoned to my core?
So I kept your bulbs locked away.
Tucked away in a jar
Time passes, but yet you still
haunt me when I look at you   from afar
Poison faded away, but the stain still remained
Leave me addicted to the scars
And every night I pray,
"Move along."
Love for you kept me in bars.
But my dear, you are not the one to blame
It is me who is ashamed.
for when a heart is a volcano, flowers can't bloom
so I send you silent shouts at the moon
To you, I'm your five months of fall, but did you know
you're my four seasons of Spring?
Revisited. Revived.
March is here, and I still wait for the day you bloom.
As my love for you, still looms.

She walks into school
      and it starts again
           the shaking,
               it rips through her like a wave
She hears the sound of the voices
      in the hallway
         yet she cant make out what they're saying
She thinks all eyes are on her,
     everything is just one big blur
She hears laughter and
     she automatically thinks its
        directed at her
She waits in the bathroom
     like she does every morning
        for the halls to be clear
She walks out
     and wipes away her tears

When i was 6, i wanted to be something i completely made up in my head.. A 'space ninja pirate undercover superhero with wizardry powers' of some sort, and so i became just that.

&When; i was 10, i grew out of that and grew into the idea of being just an 'ordinary girl' with ordinary clothes and ordinary hair, no extraordinary powers of any sort, and so i became just ordinary.

But when I was 12, i grew tired of being like everyone else. I wanted to create something original for myself. And so i took a pen and an old Disney notepad and wrote all my random daydreams down, and so i became a dreamer and that was that.

However, at 14. I started to care a little too much. Gave my heart away freely and brought myself cheap love. My hair was far too ordinary and my imagination was far too weird,
' if i don't start shaving now, by 16 i'll have a beard ' and so self conscious i became, and that was that for that year.

Now i'm at 16, and i'm starting NOT to care, my daydreams have got me this far and i embrace my messy hobo like hair.. It's tricky though.
'Cause if i were to be honest, i'd say this;;
At 16, i want to touch people with my words but not become a 'poet'
I want people to relate to my music but i don't want to be a musician
I want to get over my depression
But i dont want to feel perfect
I kinda want to run away
But at the same time i want to always have a reason to stay.

Poetry is expression of self,
but it is not one a major
social network, it is here
this peaceful place of nice people

Self expression with words,
not with some stupid Facebook
status or a tweet, not a tumblr
or Google-plus, just Hello poetry


this place is amazing,
full of life, full of hope
full of.....writers
so why can't we expand this site?

Let people know its here
let the masses know that you
can express yourself through writing
wouldn't it be amazing

to wake up and log on
and see all your friends
do something productive
and fun like post a poem
not a half naked pic

never
ever
ever
give anybody
a kiss goodbye
because they will cut open your chest
and dismantle your heartstrings
and take them from you

they will play crossword puzzles with your veins.

i am trying my hardest
to throw away my feelings for you
but they are sticking to my feet like mud
caking the sides of my new white shoes

Let me write poems
On your back; true words don't flow
From ink and paper